


Jailbait

by disreputabledog



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Porn, Blow Jobs, Canon Het Relationship, Canon Rewrite, Demon Blood, Drinking to Cope, Episode: s04e09 I Know What You Did Last Summer, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Manhandling, Manipulation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 01:46:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1369378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disreputabledog/pseuds/disreputabledog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ruby tries to find a new body that Sam will like after he makes it clear he doesn’t want her possessing anyone, but there’s only so many attractive female very-recently-dead people around. She goes for the closest thing she can find: a pretty fourteen year old coma patient they’re about to pull the plug on. </p>
<p>At first Sam rejects her advances because hello, she’s fourteen. But then again, she’s not really fourteen, right? And there’s nobody else in that body, so…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jailbait

**Author's Note:**

> Written to fill [a prompt](http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/76569.html?thread=27663385#t27663385) on the [kinkmeme](http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/). Some lines of dialogue taken directly from 4.09/"I Know What You Did Last Summer."

"Who do I have to kill to get some fries around here?"

Sam could only stare as the girl pushed past him into the abandoned house he’d taken as his base of operations in his hunt for Lilith, such as it was. And she was just that—a girl, couldn't be older than early teens, maybe not even in high school yet.

"What the hell?"

"It's me, Sam." The girl rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me you've forgotten already. I wasn't gone that long." She stood with her hand on her hip, her body arranged in a pose that fell short of sensuous. Sam had a moment of double vision, the girl's attitude superimposed on the body of a woman.

"Ruby?"

The girl snickered and her eyes blinked to solid black, then widened in mock amazement. "Say, you aren't psychic or something, are you?" She gave a little twirl. "So, what do you think of the goods? Sorry, I couldn't find another blonde, but the apartment was definitely empty when I signed the lease and picked up the keys, so that ought to satisfy your morals at least."

Sam finally shut the door and moved toward her warily.

"Oh come on Sam, I'm not going to bite or explode. What's got you so spooked?"

"But you're—you're like twelve."

"Actually I'm like four hundred, so I'm going to look way younger than my age no matter who I'm wearing. I like a pretty face to look at in the mirror and the recently dead are mostly not going to be winning any awards in that department. I can get them moving but I can't fix them up; got to rent as-is." She crossed to the bathroom and peered into the mirror over the sink, fluffing her brown bob a few times with a critical expression. "Much like this shithole of a place," she continued as she casually crushed a cockroach with her sandaled foot.

Sam continued to stare mutely. It was all too much for him. Dean, and Lilith, and just,  _everything_ , and now he was stuck in a possessed rerun of  _The Babysitter's Club_. A reference that Dean would laugh at him for making, and that only made the empty ache where his heart should be worse.

"Hey, hey." Ruby—and it was still weird thinking of this kid as Ruby—put a hand on his shoulder in a way that was probably meant to be reassuring. The effect was kind of spoiled by the fact that the only reason she could even reach his shoulder was he had collapsed to sit on the bed. "This girl was already long gone. Look," she pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to him, "coma patient. The doctors pulled the plug and I smoked in and walked out of the hospital morgue." Sam skimmed the paper, a death certificate that confirmed her story, as well as the girl's age. Fourteen. Jesus. "I'm sure it's a terribly tragic tale, but the chassis is mine now, free and clear, just like you wanted."

Sam shrugged off her hand, bent down, and scrabbled for the half-empty bottle of whiskey under the bed. Ruby gave a disgusted sigh and threw up her hands. The gesture was too old for her face, like a teen daughter trying to imitate her mother's body language to seem more authoritative. 

"Fine. Drink yourself into oblivion. I'll stand watch, it's not like I need the sleep. We can talk about what we're going to do about Lilith in the morning."

Sam really didn't want to think about that tiny sadistic hell-bitch and her tiny bloodstained white dresses under the best of circumstances, but especially didn't want to think about her when her only slightly older cousin would be watching him sleep. He shuddered, swallowed a mouthful straight from the bottle, and turned away from her.

* * *

The plan involved drying Sam out and training him up. It seemed the universe wasn't ready to let him die just yet, which was a serious pain in the ass. As he spent more nights mostly sober, though, he thought it might be just as well. He couldn't be sure he'd get to see Dean even if he did make it to Hell the old-fashioned way. After all, that was the point of Hell, right? Letting his brother down, not being able to save him when he'd promised he would, those weren't the kind of things where the punishment was getting to  _hang out_  with him in the pit, after all.

Sam missed the drinking. It made him feel closer to Dean in some twisted way, the final surrender to the family mantle of functional alcoholism coming only when he was the last living member, and in his case, far from functional. Using his psychic whatever gave him the same headaches as the booze but left everything else sharper, including the loss. 

Somewhere along the line, he got used to Ruby’s new body, only reminded of its youthful incongruity when people either smiled indulgently at the nice young man spending time with his little sister, or gave him the stinkeye for clearly corrupting a minor. He was never sure whether to laugh or cry at that. They had it all wrong.  _She_  was the demon, by definition the corruptor in this twisted partnership. But for all that she was also his savior. Dean used to be the center of his world; now the only thing constant in Sam’s life was forging himself into a living weapon against Lilith.

There were other times he...noticed...Ruby. She was kind enough not to drink because he couldn’t, and she didn’t smoke, so at least he didn’t have to deal with buying her alcohol and cigarettes. Her vice of choice appeared to be french fries. Thank—well, somebody—for small favors. But sometimes she’d get this  _look_  in her eyes and he couldn’t ignore it anymore, couldn’t pretend she was just a little girl or just his centuries-old mental exorcism tutor. She was both, and too close, when she looked up at him through her lashes and licked the salt off her lower lip, he felt things he really, really shouldn’t.

* * *

“When was the last time you showered?” Ruby’s voice sounded way too close to him and he startled alert to find her face inches away from his where he lay on the bed. He really was getting sloppy; he’d been so out of it he hadn’t heard her approach. They were in a motel for a change, following up on a lead the next state over, and it made him kind of uneasy. There wasn’t anything particularly compelling about “his” abandoned house, but Sam didn’t like getting too far away from Dean ( _from Dean’s grave_ ) for too long. 

“What do you care?” he tried to snap, but he was too worn down to really put much bite into it.

“Just because I’m easing you through your emotional funk doesn’t mean I’m willing to put up with your cave beast funk.” She leaned even closer and wrinkled her nose. “Come on. One of us is still human here and he ought to smell like it.” When she started to yank his overshirt down his arms he was too stunned to resist until she started on his tee.

“What the hell, Ruby!”

“Get. In. The damn. Shower.” Her eyes flashed as she lectured him, not demon black but the spark of someone who was bound to get her way. “And do it now, before I take the rest of your clothes and dump you in there myself.” She sat on his shins and went for his socks, small fingers tickling at his ankles and he narrowly avoided kicking her in the face.

“Okay, okay, jesus, I’ll take a fucking shower.”

After dislodging her and locking himself in the bathroom, he didn’t get undressed right away. Instead he stared at himself in the mirror for a few minutes. His hair was lank and his skin was pale, and the dark circles around his eyes made it look like he hadn’t slept in a week. Which wasn’t too far from the truth. There were just so many things he didn’t want to think about, and without the alcohol he didn’t have anything to keep his mind off them. Therefore, the carousel of nightmares and insomnia. 

And it didn’t help that one of those things was right outside. He was half hard from Ruby getting all up in his space and attempting to strip him. Sam had gotten used to being a big guy since his final growth spurt in tenth grade and his love life would have been pretty difficult if he didn’t enjoy his women smaller than him, but Ruby Mark II put a whole new spin on petite. Ashamed as he was to admit it...it was getting to him.

Jerking off had become a perfunctory thing of late, just something to do with his hands when his body presented the opportunity, leaving his mind entirely out of the proceedings. But when he finally made it into the shower and the warm water started to ease some of the tension out of his shoulders, it wasn’t Jess or Sarah or Madison in his thoughts as he stroked himself, or some generic female form; it was the image of slamming a dark-eyed teenager up against the wall, easiest thing in the world to hold her there and drive his cock into her, tight, so tight,  _fuck_. 

Flushed and shaking, after coming with a hand in his mouth to keep quiet, he rested his forehead on the cool tile of the shower wall and closed his eyes. He was so screwed.

* * *

“Fuck!” Sam held his head in his hands and stared at the body in the chair without really seeing it. Ruby wiped off her knife on the dead guy’s shirt and came closer.

“Just give it time, Sam. It’ll get better.” He knew she was trying to be encouraging but he didn’t care.

“What? I need more practice? Fuck this entire horrorshow in the ear, I’m fucking done.”

“I’m not talking about pulling demons. I know losing Dean was—”

Oh no. They were  _not_  doing this. “Fuck you, I don’t want to talk about it. And where do you get off slapping me with that greeting-card, time-heals crap? What the hell do you know?”

Ruby’s expression was a mix of pity and what Sam might have called empathy if it had been on a real human face. “I used to be human. It was a long time ago, but I still remember what it feels like to lose someone.” She put her hand on his forearm. “I know you cared deeply for your brother, or we wouldn’t be here. But—”  
  
“Care,” he snarled, throwing off her hand. “I  _care_  about my brother, because he’s not gone. Not really.” He didn’t have to listen to this bullshit. Ruby was less than half his size; he could easily overpower her, shut her up. The thought gave him chills he didn’t want to examine too closely. “Not forever.” Suddenly all the will to argue left him, and he sank into the chair behind him.

Ruby’s hand fell on his shoulder, now that she could reach it. “Don’t. I can’t,” he said, but he didn’t have the strength to shake her off again.

“Sam, you’re not alone.” Her other hand touched the side of his face, and then she was kissing him, wet hot mouth pressed to his lips, of a height with him now that he was sitting, and—

“What are you  _doing_?” He shoved her away and paced to the window, horrified at himself.

“Sam, it’s okay!”

“No, that is anything but okay!” Reminding himself of that, that he had to be responsible here because she didn’t know any better, she was just...was that sentence going to end with “just a demon,” or “just a kid”? Sam felt sick. 

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? Where do I start?”

“Is it because of the body? Because I told you: it’s all me inside of here. There is no one else. And it’s nice inside this body, Sam. Soft and warm.”

He didn’t want to think about that. Didn’t want to think about how those lips would feel on other parts of him. Didn’t want to think about how this wasn’t the first time the idea had crossed his mind. Maybe it was too late, maybe he was already damned and more than destined for down below.

“What are you doing?” Ruby was getting close to him again, too close; she was sliding her small hands under his shirt and gazing up at him with those dark eyes. 

“Is it ‘cause you’re really scared to go there with a demon? Because it’s wrong and it’s bad and we shouldn’t? Or you feel guilty for lusting after a teenager?” She lightly dug her nails into his sides and Sam sucked in a breath. “I’m not really a little girl, Sam. Unless...unless that’s what gets you hot.” Her eyes turned crafty. “Is that it? Do you get hard thinking about getting under my Gap Juniors bra? Into my Limited Too jeans? What about the red marks you could leave on my ass with those huge hands if you took me over your knee and spanked me?” With each terrifying question she raised his shirt higher.

This wasn’t happening, this couldn’t be happening. But when her mouth found his nipple and she pressed even closer to him, he couldn’t deny the inevitable any longer. With a groan he pulled his shirt over his head. Ruby’s eyes were black when she looked up at him, and Sam had to remind himself to breathe. Somehow she got him pushed back to where he was sitting before, while she sucked and pinched at his nipples, moving him slowly yet insistently so he jumped a little when he felt the chair against the backs of his knees. He stumbled and sat heavily, and Ruby wasted no time climbing onto his lap. Her slight body weighed him down hardly at all, yet her gaze pinned him in place.

It was like his brain couldn’t catch up. Yes, he’d thought about it, but it was just one of those  _things_  you fantasize about but never speak of, let alone do. Right? Yet when they kissed for the second time, it was he who reached for her. She looked so fucking young, the soft face of a girl on the cusp of womanhood, or whatever bullshit the books he had to read in high school would have said about it. She was just a kid. But a kid shouldn’t be sliding her tongue against his, and definitely shouldn’t be rocking in his lap and purring in satisfaction as her confident motions brought him to full hardness. 

Nimble fingers undid his belt. Sam tried to get his bearings, but when he gripped her arms to try to steady himself he learned that his hands could completely encircle her biceps. One of his hands could span her chest, could probably even wrap most of the way around her throat. 

He was tired of being out of control. This was something he could have—something he could  _take_.

He bit down on her mouth as her nails dug into his stomach. Tasting blood, he jerked away. Ruby looked like the kitten who got the cream, even as another red drop welled on her lip. She brushed it off with a thumb, brought it to his mouth, and his lips parted almost unconsciously. It wasn't the first time he'd been making out and someone's skin had cracked a little, but something was different. His tongue burned and his face felt hot; his hands shook where they gripped Ruby's hair. He sucked on the soft pad of her thumb and her smile widened. Her blood tasted spicier than his own somehow, a tang he couldn’t place. Sulfur, maybe. Shit.

“Good boy,” she murmured.

“What’s happening? I don’t,” Sam mumbled. The room seemed to swirl and darken before refocusing with a snap back on Ruby’s face. She removed her thumb from his mouth and he surged upward out of the chair, his hands gripping her back and her waist as he kissed her hungrily. She kissed him back just as fiercely and wrapped her legs around his hips. His hands moved to her ass and pulled her crotch tighter against his. 

“I won’t break, big boy. Come on. I know you’ve been thinking about it. I’m all yours.” He dipped his head and worried at her collarbone with his teeth, wondering if she would bruise like a real girl; he wanted to mark up all that fresh innocent skin. 

She continued to rub against his dick through their jeans while he shifted his grip so he could drag off her tanktop. She lied earlier: she wasn’t wearing a bra. Hardly needed one, tits so small they were barely there at all, nipples tilted slightly upward like an offering that he immediately attacked with his tongue. It only strained his arms a little to hold her torso away from his at the right angle to take one breast entirely into his mouth. Ruby let out a  _whimper_  as he did so, clutching at the back of his head, and he decided she was going to make all kinds of sounds for him tonight. When he pulled back, he huffed softly at the sight of the red ring his mouth had left there.

With a deft twist of his body, Sam disengaged her legs and dropped her onto the pallet he had been using as a bed. God, she was so small, looking up at him through her bangs from the floor. He wanted, and he was going to get what he wanted. Her eyes fell to his undone belt and she licked her lips. He thought of Rose Red, forgotten little sister of Snow White, but Ruby must be the third and youngest, named not for the thorn that pricked the queen's finger but the bright blood that fell to the snow. Blood still on Ruby's lips, still on his tongue, burning him up with needs he couldn't name and a sense of power that had eluded him all his life.

"Sam," she murmured, rubbing her face against his thigh like a cat as she toyed with his zipper, "this little girl wants some candy."

He flushed at that, thoughts scattering every which way. Time for his pants to go. He fumbled at his waistband and shoved jeans and boxers down to his knees. Ruby made a greedy sound and swallowed his cock the instant it was free, not stopping to tease and toy with him like he kind of expected. Sam had the brief thought that it had been awhile—and then most of his thoughts were washed away in the wet swirl of her tongue and the heated grip of her throat. It seemed you could pick up some skills during several hundred years of being evil—wicked—not very nice. Fuck.

He knew he wasn't going to last long, but Sam wanted to try everything at once; in for a penny, in for a pound. Ruby groaned appreciatively when he grabbed her by the hair to pull her off his cock and pressed her onto her back on the mattress. One hand on her chest keeping her in place, the other felt for her pussy to find it dripping wet and mostly smooth. The girl writhed against him and his cock slipped into her. They found a harsh rhythm quickly, Sam holding her down and forcing a breathless moan from Ruby's mouth at the end of every stroke. He could feel himself getting closer to orgasm impossibly fast from how tight she was, so young, his to own, and—

* * *

 "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Too much information." Dean's face is carefully blank. 

"I..." Sam flushes and ducks his head. "I guess, but I said I was coming clean."

"Oh yeah, you're coming something all right." The leer is a little wobbly, but it's still classic Dean, and Sam's relieved. As long as his brother is still trying to make a joke out of a situation, he knows they'll be okay.


End file.
